


Don't Kick the Puppy

by lar_laughs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Be_compromised Valentine's Day Promptathon, Community: be_compromised, F/M, natasha is demisexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: For the prompt:Natasha has seen Clint naked/semi-naked plenty of times - missions, training, strip poker, early morning wake up calls, what have you - and hasn't thought anything of it. It's just a body and she's seen plenty of bodies.Then, after some time/getting to know each other, she looks and it's like she has new eyes, or something has changed, because suddenly she's attracted to him.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32
Collections: Be Compromised Promptathon





	Don't Kick the Puppy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkvoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkvoices/gifts).



“You want to grab lunch?”

Natasha pretended her old cellphone was the most interesting thing she had ever seen, staring at the screen so intently that everything was fuzzy and unfocused. For all she knew, she could be looking at secret plans from the Pentagon or a new recipe off Pinterest. Both were very real possibilities.

“Hey.” This time, the words were accompanied by a light tap on top of her head from Clint’s knuckle “It’s lunch time. You want something?”

“I... uh...” Natasha lapsed into silence as she couldn’t decide how to respond. Was yes an okay response? Too forward? Would a quick no get Clint to leave? Did she want him to leave?

When she took too long to decide, Clint leaned down so he was taking up some of her air as he tried to see what it was that she was looking at. From this distance, she couldn’t help but smell the light aftershave he used after workouts here. If he’d been anywhere else, he would only smell like soap but he always used some of Sam’s aftershave when he showered because it made Bucky fume. They usually laughed about it. Now, Natasha wished he hadn’t as her stomach began to make the slow twisting dive that was becoming a new normal whenever she was near her friend.

“Why are you going back over old documents? Something Carol has you working on?”

“What?” This time, Natasha looked more closely at what was on her screen. Damn. It would have been easier to explain away the recipe. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just checking to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.”

“Missed anything? We worked on that for a week. We didn’t miss anything. Are you still beating yourself up about the results?”

He crouched down on his haunches so he could look up into her face. There was nowhere else she could look without being obvious so she let herself trace the skin around Clint’s left eye. Not his actual eye, mind you. That would cause her to do something stupid like leaning down to kiss him. At least, that was what happened last time she’d make the mistake of looking him in the eye. With the concern lacing his voice, she could only imagine his expression was equally torn between anger at the commission responsible for the inquest they’d sat through and concern that she was wallowing (his word, not hers).

“I’m fine.” It was the only thing she could think to say. When he stiffened in response, she realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“Fine? You’re fine? What’s going on, Tash?”

“I’m-”

“Fine. I know. You just said so. I’m not buying it, though. You’ve been weird lately. Is something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

Mad? No, that wasn’t it. But she couldn’t admit to her best friend what was really going on. “Sure. I’m mad at you. Go get lunch and leave me alone.” She pushed the button to turn off her phone before attempting to put it away. Clint stopped her by wrapping one of his hands over both the phone and her hand. 

“Nope. Not mad. Then what is it?”

“How do you know I’m not mad?”

She made the mistake of looking him in the eye this time. Any retort she had dried up and blew away on the breath of air she let out. When did she become so fascinated with his eyes? His lips? The way his nose was ever so slightly bent? Why did she have to suddenly be mesmerized by the way happy Clint let out his breath just before he stuffed his hands in his pocket and hunched forward, not wanting anyone to know just how delighted he was. She found herself dreaming up ways to make him do just that over and over, all day long. There was even a list buried deep in the pile of papers on her desk of things he liked. A list! It was ridiculous how much time she’d spent on that list.

Before she could stop him, Clint ran a finger down the inside of her captured wrist. “Because you look sick. You never look sick when you’re mad.”

“Sick? I’m not sick.”

“I know but... you’re definitely something different. What’s going on?”

“You were naked,” she blurted out, instantly wanting to escape by setting herself on fire just from the heat of her blush.

She felt him rock back on his heels before righting himself again. “Sorry?”

“For what? Being naked? You can’t take something like that back.”

“I guess I’m confused more than anything. When was I naked?”

Just thinking about the way he’d ripped off his shirt to dab at the wound on his side made all the saliva in her mouth dry up. It was something he’d done a thousand times. Most of the time, she took the shirt away from him and replaced it with something cleaner to mop up the result of the wounds they were both accruing in these battles with increasingly stronger opponents.

“It was... the other day.”

When he started laughing, she felt the anger rising up to replace whatever it was that she was feeling. “What’s going on with you, Tasha? That was just me taking off my shirt. I wasn’t naked around you. I know better than to try that with you.”

Right. He was a gentleman, always trying to preserve whatever virtue he imagined she had. It hadn’t been anything she’d thought twice about before. It was just Clint! He was still just Clint. Her friend.

The anger rose even stronger, making her violently shake as she tried to pull away. “I know,” she announced bitterly.

“Natasha?” he asked but he let her go. Like the friend he was.

She took the opportunity to flee as far and fast as she could.

***

The silence at dinner was something palpable. Everyone was uncomfortable. Bucky was still sullenly quiet about the prank Sam had pulled this morning. Sam was sulking because Bruce had yelled at him about being childish. Bruce’s hair was wild, a sure sign that nothing was going well in the lab. Darcy had said something about hexes and hadn’t looked up from her phone. 

Clint was staring at Natasha with a veiled expression in his normally clear eyes. She knew him well enough to know that he was confused and, as hard as it was to admit it, hurt by her actions. If she could turn back the clock, she would try to unsee what she had seen.

But that was the confusing part. She had seen much more of Clint’s body. They had slept next to each other, both of them completely naked, on several occasions when there were limited resources and the weather had turned bitingly cold, forcing them to conserve body heat with the few dry clothes they had available. Why had seeing his body started affecting her when it had never been an issue before.

Darcy looked up from her phone long enough to grab at the last piece of pizza. “You.” She scowled at Clint. “Why do you look like a hurt puppy all of a sudden?”

He shrugged a shoulder, leaning over his plate to protect his pizza crusts from Bucky’s eager fingers.

When he didn’t answer, Darcy turned her gaze toward Natasha. “Why did you kick the puppy? What did he ever do to you?”

“I didn’t kick him.” Her words were far more heated than they should have been. Darcy also seemed to notice the difference. “I didn’t,” she assured the table when Sam and Bucky suddenly became interested in the conversation, their penetrating gazes suddenly resting uncomfortably on her.

“You shouldn’t kick the puppy,” Sam reminded her, the register of his voice dropping down to his “counselor” range, as if her psyche had suddenly gone of the rails and needed to be rerouted.

Bucky nodded beside him. “Don’t kick the puppy.”

She scrunched up her nose and glared at Bucky, a reminder that she was free to kick him any time she pleased and would be doing a lot of it next time they sparred. “I haven’t done anything to Clint.”

“She won’t look me in the eye.”

Sam was the first to chuckle. “She doesn’t look anyone in the eye. Trust issues.”

“She looks me in the eye. Always has.”

There was nothing Natasha wouldn’t give to be able to settle her gaze on Clint’s as a way of showing everyone at the table that she could look him in the eye. Now that it had been pointed out, she couldn’t lift her gaze from the slick of oil pooling in the middle of the lone pepperoni still on her slice of pizza. She’d mindlessly picked the rest of them off while this conversation has been raging around her.

“Ah. That explains it.” Darcy put down her phone, suddenly much more interested in this conversation than whatever was going on inside her phone. Her shoulder pumped into Natasha’s, causing the congealed cheese of her pizza to jiggle in an unappetizing way. “Are you going to tell him, Nat?”

“Tell him what?” Sam asked.

Darcy took a deep breath through her nose. Even though she couldn’t see it, Natasha knew she was rolling her eyes in that way that only Darcy could. “That she’s in love with him.”

Clint choked on the water he’d been attempting to drink.

“Yeah?” Bucky sounded confused. “Haven’t they always been in love?”

This time, Clint appeared to choke on the air he was attempting to breathe.

“That was friendship,” Darcy declared with another eye roll. “I mean, close friends but still... just friends. Kind of like your relationship with Sam.”

This time it was Sam’s turn to choke on whatever it was in his cup. Natasha watched through her eyelashes as Bucky tried to thump at his back in an attempt to unblock his airways. His efforts earned him a slap and a push away that nearly took him off his seat.

“I’m not in love with Clint.” Natasha forced her head up, looking over at Clint. Not in his eyes but at least making eye contact with his lips. She watched them quiver into a hint of a smile before she suddenly realized her stomach was flipping again. Dinner was over if her internal organs were going to do these kind of gymnastics. She shoved back from the table, accidentally looking further up Clint’s face until they locked eyes. 

“I’m not.” She was ashamed of how small her voice sounded.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he promised.

She nodded, hoping very much they would - and dreading it at the same time. He lifted his chin in farewell, sending her from the table with a beating heart. Was she in love with Clint? Was this what love felt like? She would rather have the measles again.

***

After an uneventful evening pacing her room, Natasha made a mad dash for the roof. She needed some air. Not the canned stuff that flowed through the vents but the muggy, slight-chance-of-a-breeze that only this part of the country could offer. 

A shadow detached itself from the rest, stalking toward her until she and Clint were facing each other.

“I’m not in love with you,” she declared at the same time he said, “You aren’t in love with me.”

“What?” she asked, confused by this turn in the conversation. Wasn’t he going to agree with Darcy? She was a scientist and seemed to know a lot of information that Clint usually agreed with. Science beat magic, in his book.

“I don’t know what happened but you aren’t in love with me. Not the kind of love you’re thinking of. You, Natasha Romanova, can’t feel that kind of pathetic, sappy emotion that comes and goes like the latest shoe style.”

Natasha balled up her fists, wishing she could put a name to this strange feeling. It had felt a little comforting to think of it as love even though he was right, she was disgusted to think she might feel love for him. “Then what is this? I’m tired of it. I want it to go away.”

“What is it exactly?”

“My stomach is tight whenever you’re nearby.” The words were tight and there were a lot of pauses that he didn’t bother to fill in as he waited for her to have her say. “I notice things about you I never did before. Like how you smell and the color of your shirt.”

“The color of my shirt?” His words were quiet but there was a smile in them. He wasn’t making fun of her so much as he was... delighted with her words. “Haven’t you always noticed the color of my shirt.”

“Maybe not the color so much as the way it fits.”

“And it makes your stomach feel funny?”

She nodded, suddenly mute as if there were no more words she was capable of speaking. There were still a lot more words but they were trapped. A lot of other things would need to happen before she was able to express them. For instance, like how Clint reacted to this news that she’d come down with some strange stomach disease that was only present when he was nearby.

“What else do you notice?” And then, as an afterthought, he added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

But she was already speaking, her words coming out a little easier at his interest. “I’ve always liked the color of your eyes and how they change but now I want to stare at the ring of gold around the iris just to see the moment it turns to caramel. I looked up the song you were humming the other day and played it over and over. I thought, maybe...”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe I’d be able to hum along with you next time.”

“You’ve never cared about my music before.”

Natasha threw back her head and started to laugh, looking up at the stars as if they might hold some of the answers. “I know. It was always just background noise before. Now... now it’s part of you.”

“And that’s what changed?”

“What changed?” she asked, begging for an answer. “I don’t get it.”

Clint took one of her hands in his. “Did you miss me on the last mission you went on?”

“I... I did. We go on missions apart all the time. I miss you every time but this time was different.”

Clint’s nod was a whisper of a sound, his too-long hair at the nape of his neck rubbing against the collar of his shirt. “You talked more when you got back. Like you wanted to make sure we were sharing the same memories. You’ve been like that recently. You didn’t notice?”

She hadn’t but he was right. The more she thought about it, she had been dreading being away from him even though they were often sent on separate missions. “I noticed the ache but I hadn’t thought about it being because of you.”

“That’s the kind of thing that can get you killed. We’ll need to do something about that.”

“Like what?” she asked, suddenly suspicious at the light tone of his voice.

He leaned forward until he was a whisper of a breath away from her. “Like this.”

His lips touched the edge of her jaw. The muscles in her jaw and neck went slack and her head fell back. Her moan at the touch was slight but he heard it, his lips on her skin curving up into a wicked grin.

“Like that, did you?” he asked without moving away from her, the wind of his words ghosting across her skin. “What about this?”

His lips moved slowly up her jaw until they found her earlobe. When his teeth latched on and tugged, she had to put her hands on his arms for support. He’d just used her signature move on her. “I... When... This has never felt like this before.”

“That’s because it wasn’t me doing it to you. And you weren’t this you before. This you is something new and different. This is a Natasha that has decided she doesn’t mind me touching her.”

The last statement caused her to pull away, stung by the truth. As much as she’d liked Clint, their shared touches had never been anything physical. There were times when they’d offered comfort or support with touch. That was all. It had ended with the physical. 

“When did it become different?” she asked, her stomach tightening up again. “What did I do differently?”

“It’s seldom a single moment, Tasha. It’s sometimes a lifetime of experiences that are shared until the two people decide that there is total trust. It’s only then that they’re both able to,” he struggled with a way to describe the sensation, finally laughing softly as he finished, “feel those stomach gymnastics.”

“I can’t eat,” she whispered, feeling a bit ashamed at her inability to force her body to conform to her wishes. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Tell me about it. I was a wreck for weeks.”

“You? When did you have this trouble? Who was it?” There was a part of her that didn’t want to hear the name but the other side wanted to know so she could plan the assasination. 

His forehead touched hers. “You, silly. But you weren’t ready yet so I had to wait.”

“Me?”

“You. I would have been your friend forever, Tasha. I would have waited for you forever.”

Her stomach muscles relaxed at his words. “You would have?”

“Of course. It’s not so much about the physical part. Or not just about the physical. I like being your person. The one you look for as soon as you land or the one you depend on in a fight. It’s all important to me. Not just the physical.” Their noses touched for the briefest of moments as he got his bearings of where each part of her was. His lips settled on her jaw again before sliding down gently to nip at her collarbone. “But I like the physical.”

“Me, too,” she whispered, enjoying the way her body had suddenly lost the rigidity it had acquired over the past several weeks. This was a much more relaxing way to spend the evening than worrying.

***

There was a gift at Sam’s plate the next morning. He held up the dog collar with a question at Natasha. She shrugged dramatically but couldn’t help looking over at Clint.

When Sam raised an eyebrow at the inscription woven into the small space, Clint shrugged a shoulder. “For when you kick your own puppy.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked, leaning forward to see what it was that made Sam’s cheeks color up so rapidly.

“Nothing you need to know about,” he muttered before looking over at Clint. “This isn’t over.”

“Expected nothing less.” He smiled broadly at the other men. His smile, when he turned it toward Natasha, changed into something much more intimate. Natasha met his eyes, marveling at how the white tile in the room really set off the green highlights. He raised an eyebrow suggestively which earned him a kick under the table. 

When he grunted in pain, Bucky glared at him, clearly not liking that he was missing a lot of different connections this morning. “What?”

Sam put a hand on his arm. “The puppy finally found a home. Leave him be.”


End file.
